Born in quiet, cosy small town
She had her hair colored red-brown.
We used to be couple, we used to be lovers
Now I send her songs, but only not flowers.
Under the lantern... In summer rain.
All she had left me is sorrow and pain.
I left the town, went on to north.
That's how I tried to run from my love.
Her nickname was Sandra, her lips were so sweet.
She did enjoy singing, she liked to read.
When I was dying, she was beside.
I couldn't hold her one autumn night.
So sick and so tired, I do still want her
To stand by my side. I can stand no more
That vision of red hair and of those eyes.
Now my living is drinking and lies.
Sandra
© Copyright: Иван Кунташов, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114082400211
Свидетельство о публикации №114082400211
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